


Killer Queen (Angel Edition)

by madlysanecatlady



Series: The Nice and Accurate Ineffable Husbands Compendium [3]
Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Fluff, M/M, The Bentley - Freeform, best of queen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-01
Updated: 2019-06-01
Packaged: 2020-04-05 19:35:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,103
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19046974
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/madlysanecatlady/pseuds/madlysanecatlady
Summary: Crowley is listening to Aziraphale. He's also listening to the rather apt lyrics of yet another Queen song being foisted upon him by one of his tapes.





	Killer Queen (Angel Edition)

The angel was being uncharacteristically chatty this evening. Well, chatty wasn’t quite the word, Crowley amended for himself, knowing full well how loquacious the angel was wont to be on specific subjects, like his dusty old books. But he was being quite _whiny_ this evening.

It was honestly a little endearing. Aziraphale was somehow capable of maintaining basic politeness when completely going on and on about the _audacity_ of customers actually trying to _buy_ some of his precious books. He was in all too human a form, but Crowley could tell his feathers were fully ruffled by the experience. His bright curls appeared to fizzle as he spoke, filled with the sparks of angry energy. His normally bright blue eyes shone with annoyance, and Crowley was barely afforded the chance to admire Aziraphale’s perfect manicure what with all the wild gesticulation.

‘What, did he think I’d _actually_ be willing to part with a signed first edition of _Dorian Gray_ for _money_? Absolute insanity.’

‘Insanity doesn’t even begin to describe it.’

‘Well, perhaps not insanity,’ Aziraphale looked sheepish, accepting a sympathetic cigarette from Crowley and leaning in to let him light it, barely taking an instant to wonder at the way the demon could keep the Bentley perfectly in line without paying much attention. He was well-used to Crowley’s car talents at this point. ‘He _did_ seem to be rather earnestly fond of Oscar Wilde himself, but I just couldn’t possibly bear to part with it. He did seem rather pleased with the copy of Jeter’s _Infernal Devices_ I was able to appease him with, but that was even painful to part with…’

Crowley was about to attempt to soothe his friend’s obvious upset, but his attention was stolen by the melodious words of Freddie Mercury quietly singing in the background from whatever tape he had blindly stuffed in – it wasn’t as if it mattered which, was it?

  
_Caviar and cigarettes, well-versed in etiquette, extraordinarily nice._

Crowley suppressed a laugh. If that wasn’t the perfect description of his angel… He looked sideways over at Aziraphale who was now delving into a loving description of the book he had just so painfully parted with.

‘The cover was pristine, dear, you’ve no idea,’ Aziraphale was always careful to ensure he blew the smoke from his cigarette out the window to preserve the interior, despite Crowley’s near-constant insistence that it truly did not matter. It wasn’t as though the angel cared at all about the car – he had no interest whatsoever in cars, but Crowley was heartened by the fact that it was all done out of respect for Crowley’s love of his car. ‘And it just put a damper on the whole bloody day. I even forgot to dust and water the roses. I really would forget my own head were it not attached.’

Crowley smiled to himself and made a mental note to check up on the lovely roses Aziraphale had growing by the register in his shop next chance he got. It certainly wouldn’t do to let the poor plant die and then see the angel spiral into self-recrimination over it.

‘The dust really settles quite quickly. Oh dear, I’m so sorry, I’ve been rambling for so long. Have you heard anything from your people?’

_For cars she couldn’t care less. Fastidious and precise._

Crowley was beginning to wonder if Freddie Mercury were singing about Aziraphale. The angel was finicky and fussy at best, and were it not for Crowley’s guidance would have been completely unable to tell a Bentley apart from a Volkswagen. He smiled.

‘Angel, I could listen to you whinge on about your customers all day,’ he realised how unacceptably sappy he sounded only after the words had left his mouth and it was far to late to mitigate. He would need to fix that. ‘I’ve had a boring day. _Anything_ is an improvement.’

Aziraphale’s smile was blinding to Crowley, even through his sunglasses. The demon had no idea how he seemed to pull those beautiful smiles out of the angel so easily lately, but he wasn’t about to complain. He was truly resplendent when he was happy.

_Dynamite with a laser beam, guaranteed to blow your mind._

Crowley was convinced that lyric was devised for the sole purpose of describing this angel sitting smoking next to him. He watched Aziraphale take the final drag of the cigarette before sheepishly tossing it out the window, both men watching it turn seamlessly into a fallen tree blossom on the wind. Crowley was again overcome with odd affection for the fussy angel who had fast become his closest friend, well, ever.

‘Crowley dear? Are you alright?’ Aziraphale wrenched Crowley’s attention back from his thoughts. His eyes were focussed on Crowley and filled with a soft affection that stopped the breath in Crowley’s throat. He had to swallow hard to dislodge it. He noticed the way the angel pursed his lips slightly when he was worried. Crowley was seized with the sudden need to try and wipe the tight frown from his angel’s face. ‘You look a little lost dear, is there something on your mind?’

_Recommended at the price, insatiable an appetite. Wanna try?_

_You wanna try._

He did. He _really_ did. So he leaned over and pulled his angel’s face closer to his by the chin in order to press their lips together. With satisfaction, he felt the frown dissipate immediately, being replaced by lax surprise. With even more satisfaction, possibly even elation, he noticed how the angel leaned closer to him, making a contented noise in his throat.

Aziraphale pulled away all too soon, smiling. ‘Dearest, you’re supposed to be driving.’

‘That’s not an admonishment,’ Crowley smirked. ‘That was nice.’

‘Quite so,’ Aziraphale’s cheeks pinked. ‘Er, what could I have possibly done to earn that?’

‘Angel, you know you’re perfect, no need to fish for compliments,’ Crowley parked the car in the usual space right next to the Ritz.

The pink on Aziraphale’s cheeks was threatening to turn a brilliant red under Crowley’s soft gaze. ‘Er, well, before dinner I think I’d quite like to experience it again, if you’re amenable of course.’

‘For you, angel, any time,’ Crowley kissed him again. He smiled against Aziraphale’s lips, feeling the angel’s curve along with his. Despite the annoyance of yet another tape suffering the inevitable fate of living too long inside the Bentley, Freddie Mercury certainly had the right idea in singing about the _Killer Queen_ Aziraphale was. Kissing his angel was definitely something Crowley could see himself developing a taste for. He was quite pleased he’d decided to have a try. 


End file.
